Alternate Endings
by Willie.roxs
Summary: JOINTFIC with RAQUELMINAS.Now T rating. Betty is off to London. Daniel wants to start over. Wilhelmina is confused. Marc is overwhelmed. Amanda is...Amanda. This is our take on what happens after Betty boards that plane. Join us why don't you. K for now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! Welcome to Alternate Endings joint fic by and Raquelminas. This is a post season fic. Its also a semi crossover with the Devil Wears Prada. Also after episode 3.05 the relationship changed, so they really didn't hate each other, but they didn't get together either, they were just really good friends. This is like chapter 1/ prologue. We don't own the characters ABC did, and we don't own the movie characters either. We only own our imaginations, our laptops, and the characters you may have never heard of. Rating is subject to change, depends on how we feel. Right Jaz. Right Rae. So without further ado. Here is our first joint fic that we hope you all like (aka feel free to leave a review) here it is…. ALTERNATE ENDINGS.**

Chapter 1

White. It was all she saw as she looked down at the spreads in front on her. The white Dior paired with the wrapped lace Valentino stiletto. White crocodile Louis Vuitton bags, White Michael Kors furs, white Dolce and Gabbana suits. White. White like Daniel Meade. She bit back a laugh dragging her fingers around the edges of the proofs. The pictures were spotless, the makeup on the models, perfect and natural. She smiled to herself, he had done a good job.

About a month previous the whole MODE company had begun drastically preparing to make what was supposed to be there biggest issue ever. The 100th anniversary issue. The spreads had to be flawless, the models picture-perfect, the advertisers had to be on board. Everything had to be impeccable. Now looking at the spreads she smiled to herself. His segment of the black and white section was better than she had imagined. She began to pick up her phone just as her door opened.

Marc.

"The finished photos are through and the employees are having a field day. What should I do? Yell at them, threaten to have them all killed?"

She took in a breath not shifting her gaze from the photos, "No."

"Willie, no one's working!" He answered sticking his curly haired head further in the office. "They think it's time to party cause the issues almost finished. There's no chaos!" He walked further into the office as she still didn't respond. "What's gotten into you? Are you smiling?"

He followed her down casted gaze, spotting the spreads below, his jaw dropping.

"Are those Daniel's?"

"No Marc," She said, latching the folder in which they came in before he could grab them.

"Willie yes they are. There all white and we both know you did the all black section of the black and white shoot…" He said not moving backwards, "What are you doing with those?"

"It's none of your business Marc." She tried to fix him with one of her signature ice glares but he saw straight through it.

"That's the second time this week you've smiled?" He said a grin appearing on his face, "Is there something on your mind?"

Her eyes flickered staring through the glass as a figure approached her office.

"No Marc, now get out." She commanded, putting more strength in her voice then she felt. He immediately began to back up towards the door, that goofy grin still on his face.

"And tell those employees that they shall find a massive cut in their pay check and or kiss their jobs good bye if they don't cut it out!"

Marc smiled turning, bumping into the figure walking through the door as he did so.

The two men shared an awkward moment before Marc cleared his throat his smile growing bigger as he continued walking through the door to his desk. The other man continued in.

She felt her smile grow bigger as Daniel let out a shaky breath.

"Uh so I assume you've seen the photos?"

Wiping the grin off her face, she nodded.

At her non-emotion he stepped into the office, shutting the door behind him.

"And?"

Wilhelmina slowly stood up, smoothing her light orange dress, before walking around the desk with the folder.

"There not bad," She said holding the folder out for him to grab. "There honestly better than I had expected you to produce. On your own no less."

She watched as the look of unease washed off his face as a smile began to form. He reminded her of a child on Christmas seeing Santa's gifts under the tree. Of course before they realized that Santa Clause wasn't real.

He grabbed the folder, still smiling. It took all the strength in her being not to let herself smile at his reaction.

"And what about mine?" She asked, folding her arms in front of her.

He pulled out a folder. "There not bad," he said, mimicking her tone, "But they could use some touching up."

"What!" she asked, shocked at his cockiness.

She glared at him trying to understand what gave him the right to criticize her photos.

He didn't look up avoiding her gaze.

"Daniel look at me," She said annoyed.

He didn't, still keeping his head hung over the photos.

"Look at me."

Just then he moved his head slightly and she saw the smirk on his face.

"You jerk," She said punching him in the shoulder of his grey sharp cut suit as he began to laugh.

"You should have seen your face," He said imitating her reaction while laughing.

"Well I hardly think that's funny."

"No?" He said looking at her. "Well I think it's hilarious." He set down the folders on her chaise moving across the room. "A toast."

"A toast? A toast to what?" She asked. She watched as her cabinet opened and he returned with an unopened bottle, beginning to twist the top of. She began to walk over to the credenza.

It opened with a loud pop sending little bits of foam over the top.

"To us," he said beginning to pour the drinks, handing her one.

"Us?" she asked.

"And the pre-success of the 100th anniversary issue."

"Ah," she said under her breath, tilting her head, raising her glass as he did. She tipped it back taking a drink.

"Andres Hernandez called and said the shoot for the current Editors- in-Chief is ready!"

She sighed, whipping her head around towards the spot at her doorway where Marc had just entered.

"We had better get over there," She said placing her half-empty drink back down on the table.

"Right," Daniel said, nodding.

She looked up spotting his eyes, sharing the briefest of moments before brushing past him towards the door.

* * *

She sat in the dark of her office. It was late as she opened her computer screen. The photo shoot had taken longer than expected. Daniel had agreed to let her pick the photo dedicated to the 'Daniel Meade and Wilhelmina Slater era'. She clicked the power button on her laptop turning it on.

The photos from the shoot appeared. Each one of them with a grey background. She scrolled through the options finding the one she liked. She clicked on it. It was a photo of her and Daniel, arms crossed, standing back to back. She was about to send it off to print as her computer froze.

A new screen popped up. It was all words, a mass email titled: '**OMG!'**

**Bettys taking that job in LONDON!**

She blinked not understanding. _What job? London? What Betty are they talking about?_ _They were surely not talking about Betty Suarez_, she thought to herself. She checked who the sender was. Marc.

"Marc!" She yelled.

Immediately she heard the familiar sound of scuttling footsteps from outside her office. She looked up but the person standing at her door wasn't Marc.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Um Marc already went home," The blonde girl answered, "I was just… cleaning his desk for him."

That was the second time in less than two months that she had to hear Marc had gone home earlier and that Amanda had come back to work for him.

"Well you can go," Wilhelmina said watching the blonde girl turn. "No, wait." The girl turned back a worried look on her face. "Do you have any idea what this means," she said gesturing at the screen.

The girl ran around the office, her heels clicking on the floor lightly with each step she took making the layered long gold and pearl necklaces she wore bounce.

"Ah, Betty was offered a job in London as an editor and she's taking it," She said.

"What? Betty, an editor?"

"Well yeah," she said, "I mean she's already a fashion editor here."

Wilhelmina nodded still surprised by the news.

"Well thank you…" She looked at the girl for a minute not remembering her name, "You can go."

She watched as the girl scampered off out of the room.

She exited the screen, not allowing herself to think about it now. The picture of her and Daniel popped up again. She looked at it for a moment liking what she saw. Them, working together, no scheming just complete honesty and respect. Well respect on his behalf towards her but she had to admit she was learning how to respect him more.

Instantly a flashback of a moment they had spent in the Starbucks down the street came to her memory. She had been in to order her daily coffee, a task she normally had Marc do. However, that day she had been early, and in a somewhat jubilant mood, so she had decided to get her own. After sitting down to enjoy it before calling her town car to transport her the next two blocks to Meade she watched as a hurried Daniel Mead ran into the small coffee shop. Racing by he nearly knocked into her.

"Sorry! I'm so sorry," He had yelled while continuing to race by.

She had sat there completely aware that he hadn't even glanced at her while passing. Something had gotten into him and she couldn't help but wonder what. She watched as he rapidly gave the man behind the counter a long order, tapping his foot while the man began to prepare the drinks. After about a minute Daniel began to pace back and forth, nearly reaching her table. The next time he did she stuck her foot out in front of him. He nearly walked right over it before realizing the move and looking up.

"Wilhelmina?"

"Why the rush?" She had asked, taking in his disheveled appearance and contorted face.

He seemed to be fighting an inner battle of whether or not he should tell her the reason behind why he was so distraught. Deciding to he spoke up, "The Givenchy people are coming this morning and there is no coffee sitting and waiting for them."

She shifted in her seat, "Is that the only reason you're down here?"

Under her gaze he looked down, "And the file with our plans for the meeting have gone missing."

"Ah," She had replied, taking a sip of her still piping hot coffee. "So you made up an excuse to leave while Betty's searching for them."

He shuffled his feet, "Wait. That meeting was supposed to start," he checked the clock on the wall, "Six minutes ago. Why are you here?"

She finished her sip, setting her coffee down before looking up at him.

"Because I took the meeting yesterday."

The concern on his face instantly turned from worry to confusion.

"What? Why the hell would you do that? Wilhelmina I thought you said we were in this together." His voice began to rise.

"We are stupid. I took that meeting because I knew you had a busy day tomorrow with the Ghesquiere reps and I knew you would need today to plan or else you'll be all shaky and nervous and we both know that the French see that as a sign of weakness."

She could tell he had tried to hold back a smile when he cleared his throat before thanking her.

They had spent that whole r`est of the morning together preparing for the meeting. The next day he had asked her out to lunch after they had landed the deal and they had been planning lunch meetings daily since then.

Snapping out of it, she clicked the send button on the screen, sending the photo to print. Clicking out of everything she began to shut it down to leave for the night as her cell phone rang. She answered.

"Hey it's me Daniel."

"Daniel it's 10:30. What do you want?" She answered not letting the smile that began to form on her face translate through her voice. She liked knowing that they were working together as respective partners. For however long it lasted that was.

"We need to talk."

* * *

When she arrived home she poured herself a large glass of wine, and downed it. Cursing under her breathe the day Daniel Meade was born. _Why did she let him of all people get to her?_ She shouldn't care, she doesn't care, and that's what she keeps telling herself. Yet the conversation that happened only twenty minutes before stated otherwise.

"_We need to talk."_

"_Sure. What is it?"_

"_I thought I should let you know first, that I, well, I think I need a change."_

"_Oh god, please tell me you aren't following in your brothers footsteps and want to be a woman cause that's too much for me to bear."_

_He chuckled. "No, no, no. Not that kind of change."_

"_Well then, what is it?"_

_There was a silence on the phone before he answered, "I'm going to London."_

"_What?"_

"_I know it's sudden and unexpected, but I need a change. I need a fresh start."_

"_Now? Daniel we have an 100th anniversary issue to put out in just 3 days and you're telling me now that you're going off to London for some self-revelation bullshit?"_

"_I knew you wouldn't understand. And, quite frankly, I thought you would be happy. It means you're sole editor. It's what you wanted."_

"_Of course it is you fool, but not right now. God Daniel I didn't think you were that stupid."She said, her voice growing louder._

"_Hey I'm a grown man who can make decisions on his own. You're not my mother, you're not my girlfriend, you are a co-worker who I've spent a great deal of my life hating. At least I gave you fair warning."_

"_Oh yes, all hail the great Daniel for granting me this one thing," She huffed, making mocking gestures over the phone, quickly regaining from the momentary shock of hearing him say the word 'girlfriend' in a sentence referring to her. "This is the most selfish thing you can do."_

"_I learnt from the best. And I'm doing it." He said. "Bye Wilhelmina."_

_And with that there was a clicking sound. She stared at the phone before slamming it down on the hook._

She replayed the conversation over and over in her head. She didn't understand why she was so upset, she damn sure shouldn't be. This is what she wanted; she finally had MODE all to herself. _Then why was she still unsatisfied?_

* * *

Daniel tried to sleep on it; he hadn't been expecting that reaction. He was expecting cries of joy, the calling of movers to remove his things, firing people, anything but a 'why'? He lay awake in bed, letting the events of the day wash over him. When he found out Betty took a job in London he was hurt, she was the one person he could always count on, she was his best friend. He tried to ignore her but couldn't. He thought on it and when she explained her reasoning he had some sort of epiphany, 'if Betty was able to start over, take life into her own hands, why couldn't he_?' Because she doesn't have a magazine to run,_ his conscious kept telling him. Ultimately it was his decision and it's what he wanted to do, people would just have to deal. And by people, he meant Wilhelmina Slater.

The next day Daniel had made the news public, sending out a press release to all media outlets. She was pacing in her office watching Suzki on the t.v. go on and on about Daniel's decision before picking up the remote and throwing it on the white chaise in frustration.

"That fucking asshole!" She vented to herself, she looked up to see Marc on the threshold of her office.

"Sorry, did I get the wrong flowers?" He said, a large bouquet of vibrant assorted flowers in his hands.

"Flowers? Why would I want flowers?"

"Congratulation flowers silly!" He said, throwing his hands in the air, "You're Editor-in-Chief of MODE. All on your own this time, no pasty face in your way."

Disregarding his excitement she went to sit behind her desk, holding her head in her hands.

"This is payback."

"I'm confused," He said, bring his hands down from where he had lifted them, "You're supposed to jump for joy, fire people, redecorate… You're not doing that."

"Of course I'm not Marc. As happy as I would love to be, I don't appreciate someone bailing out on me. This issue is the most important of all, and _he_," She gestured at the muted television," gets up and leaves it all to me. Typical of him, just when I think maybe we can get along for the sake of MODE, maybe this partnership could work, he pulls some shit like this."

Typical Daniel Meade, bailing out when it gets too hard leaving me to clean up the mess," She muttered mostly to herself.

Marc stood in the center of the room, not sure what to do, say, or honestly think.

"Do you still want the flowers?" He put on a confused smile.

"Get out." She deadpanned.

* * *

"First call for Continental Airlines flight number 563 from New York City to London. Boarding all first class and business seats now."

Daniel looked at his ticket and got up. He looked around the JFK airport, watching people scurrying about to get to their destinations, children running to find parents, and sighed. He was really leaving, giving it all up. As much as he hated to admit it, he was pretty damn scared.

He made his way to the gate and handed his ticket over before looking back one last time, leaving all that he knew behind, for the chance to start over.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N Thanks for the reviews. Heres another chapter. We love you all. I think.**_

_**J & R**_

* * *

Chapter 2

The London airport had been busy as he had departed the gates to collect his luggage and get a car. He had no idea where he was headed as he exited the automatic doors of the airport. The difference in temperature was the first thing that hit him as he walked outside for the very first time without rushing to catch a car to a fashion show. He took in the surroundings, the people, the way the city was built. _This is nothing like New York_, he thought to himself. He took the bag that was slung over his shoulder and placed it in the back of the oddly colored yellow car that had just parked in front of him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Yelled the driver, emerging from what appeared to be the wrong side of the vehicle.

"Oh I'm sorry," Daniel replied, removing his bag. "Am I not supposed to put them in myself?"

The man gave him the most disgusted look, "What the hell? You think I'm a cab driver? New Yorker? "

Daniel quickly realized his mistake but it was too late.

The man motioned to the car, "This is my car buddy, get lost!"

Daniel removed his belongings as rapidly as he could, walking away as fast as his legs would carry him as the man hurtled insults his way.

_That had been the first day of many long days,_ he thought now as he sat in his small apartment. He had been staring out of his window, facing some of the many sights of London, for the past half an hour. _It was almost six,_ he thought, realizing that he still had to get dressed for his dinner tonight with his dear friend Betty. Looking out of the iron rimmed window for the last time he stood up, walking himself towards his room.

* * *

Daniel entered the apartment around nine, dropping his keys in the bowl next to the door before turning on the lights as he had grown accustom too. He quickly flung his coat half-hazardly on the coat hanger next to the light switch while turning on the hall light with his other hand. Navigating around the table he made his way to the kitchen, set some hot water on and pulled his favorite espresso out of the cabinet up above. Daniel wasn't particularly thirsty but he knew this was going to be one of those nights already where he wasn't going to get any sleep. He sat there in his favorite seat at his table, staring at nothing, his arm propped up on the table, hand slightly covering his mouth.

His whole dinner that night with Betty had gone well. He had taken her to a pub that was said to have the best cheese burgers in town, and he knew the way she liked her burgers. They had eaten and chatted first about work and how things were going. After about the second beer they had begun to warm up to deeper conversation. About what she saw for herself, how things would change. When she had asked him why he was there he was instantaneously drawn back to a memory.

It had been a cold day in New York, a record breaking snow was supposed to hit that night and he was caught late at work. He picked up the telephone to dial his car then realized that the drivers weren't paid enough to even take a second opinion on the weather and probably had all stayed home. Packing up he grabbed his coat and wrapped it around himself, incasing the MODE book inside. Exiting he hit the harsh windblown streets, wrapping his scarf tight around his neck covering his mouth and pulling his gloves tight on his hands. He let his feet guide him and when he found himself inside a building and in an elevator he finally took a moment to scope out his surroundings. The elevator dinged signaling the doors were opening as he realized, it wasn't his building.

The doors opened on floor 16 and he found himself in front of 1602 moments later.

Wilhelmina had answered the door after the third knock. She had a look of surprise to find him there on her doorstep. Without saying a word he undid the buttons of his coat, her eyes watching, confused but silent. As he undid the last button he pulled out the MODE book. Her eyes fluttered as a slight smile began to take over the confusion painted on her face. Without saying anything she moved aside, swinging the door open further so that he could enter. He did so handing her the book as he went, thankful for her ever-lit fireplace.

She had poured them both drinks and they had talked about MODE and MEADE and upcoming meetings and such. After their third round the snow had begun to fall and the conversation had started to shift. It had been in a comfortable silence, him staring out the window, until she asked, "Why are you here?"

Daniel shifted his position sitting at the table, hearing the coffee pot beep in the distance. The memory continued to play in his mind. _Why was he there?_ The night he had been at Wilhelmina's he had simply answered, 'Because your place is closer than mine.' But they could both sense that that wasn't the entire truth, though neither pushed the issue further. He had stayed there through the night, resting on her couch as the snow fell and blanketed the streets outside. That had been at least two months ago. His reasoning for being in London now was a mystery to even him. When Betty had asked he had taken a large sip of his beer, pretending to be drinking while trying to think of a reason.

Daniel stood up, grabbing the hot water and began to make himself his coffee. His answer that he had finally settled on had been because he wanted a change. He wanted the feeling of trying something new, of being somewhere different. Betty had nodded taking a sip of her beer. The rest of the night had wound down pretty quickly, her providing her own ride home in her town car. He smiled thinking of how successful she had become. How she had built her own name. Her last comment rattled around in his head as he took a taste from his coffee. "I read your last issue of MODE. I never saw your letter-from-the-editor. Isn't it custom for whosever leaving to write the letter? I see Wilhelmina's still a rule follower!"

Daniel sat back down at the table, pulling out his laptop. The truth was he had written a letter. He just didn't like it. It wasn't what he wanted. He knew Wilhelmina wouldn't be happy when she found out that he wasn't going to turn in a letter before he left. Luckily, he had dodged seeing her on the day of his departure by not even telling her when he was leaving. Not that she had cared though. She hadn't said a word to him since he had mentioned his leave.

Staring at the computer screen, he pulled up his draft of the letter. It was titled 'A Hundred Years of Attitude'. He read it once, still sensing a dislike for the way it was written. Taking a drink of his coffee he began to shut his computer screen before something popped up. A link had open accidentally when his arm had brushed the mouse and it was now opening. He quickly went to click the X until a picture downloaded in front of his eyes. There in the picture stood two people, back to back, an almost sly, devilish look on the woman's face. From anyone else's view looking at the picture it would appear as if she had a trick up her sleeve or knew that she was soon to become the new sole editor of her long time coveted magazine. That was to anyone who didn't know what had just _happened moments before. _

_Just minutes earlier they had both been in the dressing rooms. He was just walking out of his sectioned off area as he spotted her sitting there in her seat in front of the mirror, the lights shining back at her. He detoured from the door he had been heading to and made his way to the seat opposite hers._

"_You ok?" He had asked._

_She said nothing but stared ahead at the mirror in front of her, her eyes not faltering._

"_Hey, Wilhelmina. Earth to Wilhelmina," He said waving his hand in front of her face._

_She barely as much as flinched. Until she spoke._

"_When I started out in this business I never thought that I would be sitting here today. Getting ready to celebrate the 100__th__ anniversary issue of MODE as co-editor-and-chief. And yet here I am." She turned to him, "Sitting by my partner, who, when he started out, I thought I could run over in a second, even if he was given his job by his father. And in the past few years you've proven that you can't just be run out. That you can work hard and know what you're doing."_

_She stared at him, her blue eyes reading as if to say that her words were real._

"_Well," He said clearing his throat, his fingers playing with the make-up brushes placed on the counter, "I think that it's about time you finally come to that realization. And…that these lights are getting to you." He picked up the brush he had been playing with and streaked it across her cheek adding a golden glint on her skin._

"_Daniel!" She said startled. Instantly she picked up a pair of tweezers threatening to use them against him if he dared come near her again with another make-up brush._

_He laughed at the memory._

_They had finally extracted themselves from the dressing room, making a truce that neither of them would take a stab at the other. Of course when his back was turned he felt a sudden spray of something hitting the back of his neck. He turned to see her rapidly setting down the perfume bottle that she had sprayed him with before running out of the room. He had smiled instantly recognizing it as her scent. He picked up the small black bottle to read the name. 'Lethal Seduction.'_

Now looking at the picture he smiled, completely understanding the reason behind the looks on the two editors faces.

As if a light bulb had gone off inside of his mind, he opened a new document, beginning to type a new letter.

* * *

The Mode offices were cold as Marc made his way round the conference room, setting down the proofs and drafts of the Features Editors proposals for the July issue. He snorted looking down at some of the concepts coming out of these people's minds. If only Betty were still here to pitch something on Global Warming or the poor kids in Serbia or wherever. It might even make it in compared to the dreadful ideas in front of him since assistants were allowed to pitch ideas now. Wilhelmina had had to make some cuts in their staffing and that had made their features team quite a few hands shorter. But there was no way Wilhelmina was going to let go, _Leggings: the New Black. _She had made it perfectly clear that she detested the very sight of the spandex and cotton blend. Grabbing a handful of magnets, he headed to the features spread board, holding them between his teeth while posting his, _Hot Spot: Rio,_ of Wilhelmina, he hadn't seen her come in, which resulted in his hurry of preparing the conference room for her. He had no idea when she was about to arrive, which made him all the more nervous. The past few weeks she had been in and out of the offices more than he had ever seen her in the past few years that she had shared ownership with Dan—Marc instantly stopped what he was doing, dropping pages 2 and 3 from the spread in his hands. He had almost slipped. Ever since the departure of their former co-editor-in-chief no one had spoken his name. Not once, after an accidental slip by an assistant. _Peggy or something like that? _The moment the name had slipped out of her mouth while she was presenting the blonde girl's eye shot up in horror, immediately irking her from continuing what she was saying. No one in the conference room had moved, all fearing what would happen if they met the gaze of Wilhelmina sitting at the other end of the table. For a whole two minutes, there had been a dead silence. Not a manicured finger had moved or a be-jeweled pencil stirred. Nothing. Then, breaking the silence Wilhelmina raised from her seat, walked around the long circular table and headed out the glass conference room doors. The currents of emanate doom eliciting from her walk nearly toppled the girl who held on to the circular table for dear life. That had been the last any of the Modie's had seen her, or even heard of her for that matter. That had also been the last time anyone in those halls had ever mention or even whispered his name.

Still standing in his same position, Marc bent over, picking up the sprawled spreads, beginning to place them in their proper order again. With the girl gone it had left an assistants spot empty. Marc knew Wilhelmina was in no place to hire a new assistant so he had proposed they search from within the Mode family. It had taken only a little bit of hardcore fact, unlike the usual two weeks' notice and extra work time on his behalf, to convince her that he knew the perfect man for the job. Troy had proven to be a fabulous assistant. Minus the coming home major meltdowns after the first few hard days in the office, which they found could easily be fixed by a few shots of hard liquor, he had warmed up to Wilhelmina in a matter of days. Marc smiled to himself, knowing that his intense courses of 'Wilhelmina Assistanting Boot Camp' every night had paid off.

Marc placed the remaining pages up on the board spinning around on his heel to face the conference table again. _Coffee. Where the hell was the coffee?_ Marc leaped forward out of the conference room towards Wilhelmina's office to find Troy sitting outside of it at the desk in which he once called his own. He tried to bite back a small smile. He liked seeing him there every morning. But now was not that time, he cleared his throat.

"Troy-eyy" he said in an almost sing song voice. He immediately chastised himself for it though, inwardly slapping himself. He straightened up to see the man's blue eyes look up from behind the computer which he sat. He cleared his throat. "How are we doing this morning? Good I presume. Good, good. Well I wouldn't want to damper your good mood , and by me I mean Wilhelmina, and by that I mean if there is no coffee on the conference table desk when she arrives she will have someone's head for a substitute. And by someone it would be you. " Troy opened his mouth to speak but Marc cut him off. "I know you know that already, you're just having a little slip. But don't worry, you have a little bit of time-" Marc cut him off again as he opened his mouth for the second time, "Before she gets here. I haven't seen her all morning and that means if you run down to Starbucks you can be back before she even knows you forgot. Wow, I wonder where she is?" He said, turning around to check if his ears hadn't picked up the sound of her Blahniks colliding aggressively with the tiled floors of Mode.

Marc turned back around returning his focus to Troy in front of him now standing.

"That's what I was trying to tell you," He said, crossing his arms in front of his body. "She won't be coming in till the afternoon."

"What?" Marc asked, concern flooding his vaguely feminine features, "But she has an emergency meeting with the Features Editors this morning! She has been detaining it all week and some of them have some good pitches… No, I take that back. _I_ have a good pitch. But I need her OK before I can start!"

"Well I'm sorry Marc," Troy said, sitting back down. "But she already called in and said she won't be in till then."

Marc faced the man in front of him, instantly forgetting the feelings he had towards him and found himself, for a moment, hating his guts for telling him something like that and pretending that he had no control over the situation. Then he remembered that this was Wilhelmina they were talking about, and no one had control over her. He sighed, closing his eyes. When he opened them he found Troy again typing on his computer. Marc turned to walk away. After Betty's going away party he and Troy had made up and had begun dating again. He couldn't have been happier to have him back in his life and had been completely enthusiastic when he had landed him a job as Wilhelmina's assistant. Ever since Troy had proven that he could handle working for her their relationship had begun to take a back seat to work until he found themselves putting on two different attitudes. Co-workers during the day and a couple at night.

Passing the conference room window he stared at his work on the Rio spread hanging on the wall only to find another set of eyes staring at it as well.

"Hey you!" He yelled through the conference room door. The boy standing there jumped, turning around on the spot.

"Oh my gosh Marc! You scared me!" The boy remarked, a hand instantly fluttering to his heart.

Marc smiled, walking into the conference room. "Ah Justin," He said, engulfing the little boy into a hug. "What brings you to Mode? Boy trouble?"

"No, actually. Things between me and Jason are fine," Marc nodded his head. "Actually I'm an intern."

"What? Really!" Marc said, smiling himself as the little boys smile grew bigger.

"Well yeah, they needed some help with covering the Costume Institute Ball. But I was just admiring your work."

"Oh? And so what do you think," He asked, leaning back on the conference room table behind him, crossing his arms.

"Uh-" The boy stammered, fiddling with his fingers.

"Justin, working here is a hard business and to make it you have to have your opinions heard. So speak up. Come on," He said, bumping him in the shoulder, "You are an intern now. Tell me what ya think. Nothing you can say will hurt me."

The boy instantly stood up from his slouch of moments before, "It's a little dry. The content has been done before and the images need work."

Marc shot up incredulously. "Well," he said, fighting back his nerve to fire back, "I see you still have a lot to learn and I have better things to do."

With that, he strode out of the room leaving the young Suarez to sit back and ponder what had just happened.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Here is some more. Enjoy. Thanks for the reviews. They mean the world to us.

J & R

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Chapter 3

Wilhelmina sat at the edge of the bed and slipped her feet into her black Mui Mui's, she stood up looking in the full length mirror across the room and straightened out her outfit. She wore a simple purple dress, with an asymmetrical cut that exposed her left shoulder; she smoothed the fabric down over the curve of her hips and smiled. She picked up her bag on the vanity, throwing her lipstick and blackberry inside, taking one last look at her face on the way, and turned to leave.

She walked down the hallway and stopped at the bathroom door, turning the knob.

"I'm leaving." She shouted over the running water.

She saw the shower door slide open, as the person smiled at her.

"Do you have to?"

"Yes I do. I can't afford to come in late, _again._ Plus I have an important features meeting, that I must attend or my magazine will only be feasible for whores."

The person in the shower laughed.

"Alright. See you when you get back." The shower door closed, and Wilhelmina shut the bathroom door smiling, today would be a good day. Unless those idiots at Mode pissed her off.

**XXX**

20 minutes later Wilhelmina was riding the elevator up to the 28th floor. When she heard the ding that signaled the doors opening, she stepped onto the floor and silence emerged so quickly you could hear the heavy breathing of the new receptionist.

Normally Wilhelmina would have made some catty remark about the girls breathing habits, or the thickness of her nose, but Wilhelmina walked right by, through the tube into her office, without an insult, something was wrong.

Marc was leaned against the desk in the conference room, looking at his spread. Justin's words, echoed over in his brain. _It's a little dry. The content has been done before and the images need work. _He took down the spread in frustration, running his hands through his hair gripping it tightly, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them he saw Wilhelmina stride into her office, with a smile. He immediately went to investigate.

"I'm glad coming in late, brings a smile to your face," He blurted out before he could think. "Sorry. I mean, where have you been woman. Did you forget you had a meeting this morning?"

"No I didn't. And I thought I was the Editor-in-Chief of this magazine. You don't need to know everything that I do Marc? I'm a big girl."

He looked at her. "Fine. Should I get the staff together for our delayed meeting."

"Yes you may." She smiled and sat at the desk opening her laptop.

Marc turned on his heel and headed for the door, before turning on the threshold to face her.

"Is everything okay?" He squinted his eyes, and pursed his lips.

"Everything is fine."

"You sure, you seem different."

"Marc, I am fine. The meeting."

He nodded and left, she could hear him yell in the halls to the employees, and watched as they all scurried about into the conference room. She smiled. Though Marc wasn't her assistant any longer, that didn't affect his loyalty to her. After Daniel left, she was alone. She was Editor-in-Chief/Creative Director/ Co-Owner of Meade. It was overwhelming at times, which is why she leaned on Marc more. Until she had the time to find an actual creative director Marc was sort of filling that position, meaning second in command. She was grateful to have him around; she knew she couldn't do it alone, that and the fact she found it amusing when Marc would attempt to yell at, or fire people. She smiled and looked down at her desk and saw a piece of mail.

_Daniel Meade._

Her smile quickly turning to a frown as she held the envelope in her hand tossing it back and forth, before throwing it in the trash. That name, was taboo to her. No one mentioned him since he left, she had been holding on to that piece of paper for 2 months now. It was stamped and ready to be sent, however she didn't have the courage to send it off. She didn't want to think about him, at all. But she read his name on the paper and her mind wondered.

"_You're 15 minutes late." He said as she came into view._

"_You're in need of a tan." She remarked taking off her coat and placing it on the chair behind her._

_He laughed as he sipped his wine._

"_How is that possible when you left before me Willie?"_

"_One its Wilhelmina, I don't know what makes you think you can call me nicknames like Willie."_

"_Oh so you prefer the nicknames bitch, schemer, deceitful, w-"_

"_Shut up." Uncharacteristically she threw a piece of bread at him. "For your information I had to run a couple of errands."_

"_Like."_

"_Why are you so nosy.?" The waiter came by and asked for their orders._

"_Um, I will have the black tiger shrimp." Daniel said handing him the menu._

"_For you Miss."_

"_Uh, I'll have the province vegetable chicken salad. Thank you." She handed him the menu. "Oh and more wine." She called after him._

"_You trying to get me drunk?" Daniel teased._

"_Of course I am." They laughed._

"_So what errands?"_

"_Are we still on this? Let it go."_

"_You're still seeing him."_

"_So what if I am, it's nobody's business but mine."_

"_You're making a mistake. And wasting your time."_

"_Why do you care?"_

"_Because believe it or not Wilhelmina we are friends. And in some odd way, I don't want to see you hurt." He looked her in the eye, but she refused to meet him, because he was right._

She shook out of her trance and got up from her desk, and walked out of her office, passing Troy on the way.

"Good morning Troy."

Troy stopped playing solitaire and turned to watch his boss walk away.

"So she does know my name." He whispered to himself, smiling inwardly.

She sat in her chair at the round table, as the editors presented their ideas and stories. Surprisingly, she gave the nod twice, a yes once, two no's, and spilled coffee on one. As Marc approached her, he was confident that what Justin said was completely wrong, however the words "_It's a little dry. The content has been done before and the images need work"_ escaped her and his mouth fell. He nodded curtly before walking to sit down by the other editors. They were whispering amongst themselves about how Willie's golden boy let her down. Wilhelmina dismissed the meeting, and the staff cleared out all except Marc and Justin who was in the corner.

Just as Wilhelmina headed out, Marc called for her.

"You really didn't like it?"

"I didn't say that I didn't like it, I said it needed more work. And it clearly does. I expect better from you Marc, out of all people."

"But, I thought this was g-"

"Good. It's good, yes. But it can be better. You know it and I know it. I am only trying to help you."

"By telling me how much I suck. Gosh I heard it twice today one from a high school kid and now from a woman who is barely around to know what is going on, great." Marc sarcastically replied and stormed out of the room.

"Marc!" Willie called after him, her cries on deaf ears as he continued to make his way down the hall followed by the stares of co-workers.

"What are you looking at?" She snapped. "Get your asses back to work."

Wilhelmina sighed to herself and sat down again, putting her head in her hands. She felt his pain, its hard hearing what you think is your best work criticized. But it's needed. Fey did it to her, and look where she is. She's doing what's best for him. Her thoughts were interrupted when she spotted the boy in the corner staring at her.

"May I help you?"

"Hi. I'm Justin Suarez, an intern for the summer. I love you." He smiled sheepishly.

"Suarez, you wouldn't happen to be related to Betty in any way."

"She's my aunt."

"Ah."

"We've met a couple of times. I was with you at fashion week 3 years ago. And I was here as an intern again in 2 years ago. I helped you style the cover of the July issue. " He smiled.

"Oh yes, fashion elf." She laughed at her own name.

"One fashion elf at your service."

"So, I'm guessing you were the highschooler he was referring to."

"Guilty as charged. I mean I like the idea, but as you said Marc is better than that. He's a talented guy, in fact he's like a mentor in some sort." Justin smiled looking down.

"I see." Wilhelmina bit her bottom lip. "Just what do you do as an intern here."

"Well HR assigns me a mentor, I got stuck with the girl that picks her teeth with the pencils in her cup, my job is sharpening them. I thought I was supposed to be helping with the Ball."

Wilhelmina let out a laugh.

"It's really not funny. It's super disgusting. I was hoping to have Marc," he started to say before swallowing. "Or you, but the lady in HR said that would never happen." Justin put on a sad smile.

"She's right," Justin's smile fell and he put his head down. "But here is what we can do." His head shot up and he grinned at Wilhelmina, who in return smiled back.

**XXX**

Marc sat at his desk, doing more research. He felt bad for speaking to Willie like that, but it was true. She was in and out all the time, he was never there to get her opinion now he embarrassed him in front of the whole staff, when he worked his ass off while she was away.

He heard footsteps coming towards him and he looked up.

"You."

"Hi."

"What is it now, not satisfied how Wilhelmina shot me down."

"Not at all. I just wanted to meet my new mentor." Justin smiled.

"Mentor?"

"Yes, for the internship. We got paired up. So I work for you."

"Great. Another distraction."

"I can be of help. I promise. Look Marc, I know you may be angry, but I do look up to you. Wilhelmina was only tough on you cuz its obvo. you are her favorite. You can do this."

Marc looked up at the optimistic kid, if only he knew. "You're right. Let's do this."

An hour later they marched into Willie's office throwing the spread on her desk with smirks on their faces. She was in the middle of a phone call and held her hand up and signaled them to sit.

"Yes, yes, Miranda I know. You make sure you have everything squared away on your end as well." The voice on the other end was screaming and Willie put the receiver down on the table counting to five.

"Alright, dear. Well I've got a very important meeting to attend if I want my magazine to kick your magazines ass. Bye Miranda." Wilhelmina quickly hung the phone up before commenting.

"Bitch." Justin giggled from his seat. "Don't repeat that." She told him.

"Was that Runway Miranda. The notorious Queen of any and everything fashion, the one who makes people cry at the mention of her name, the one wh-?" Justin asked.

"Unfortunately yes." She cut him off. As you know, we are working together to coordinate the ball in December."

"But that's like, 5 months from now."

"It's never too early to get a head start. Now what do you want?"

"Here is the new article, polished. And let me say one thing. Sorry for earlier, I've been having problems at ho-"

"Too personal." She snatched the papers from his hand a skimmed through them. They heard the occasional "hmm" saw a squint or two, and watched her furrow her brows.

"Well, Well, Well. Seems like tough criticism does you well." She smiled handing him his article. "That. Is what I expect from you, not the garbage you gave me that only that ugly brunette in styles would write. Remind me to fire her."

Marc smiled at her and looked at his article. A beautifully shot picture of Copacabana Beach at night, stood out better than the Christ the redeemer he picked the first time.

"Good work, Marc." She smiled at him. He nodded and stood up motioning for Justin to follow.

As they walked away Justin smiled broadly at Marc.

"See I told you."

"Told me what?"

"You're her favorite, she so loves you."

"How do you know that?"

"She let you re-do an article, and she liked it. That's a miracle in itself. I can only pray to the God's above that being around you will rub off on me, so when you die I can have that same privilege."

They shared a laugh as the walked down the hall.

"But I can't help but notice there is something different about her."

"Such as?"

"I dunno. She seems to have a glow you know, like when she dated that Texan guy for a bit. Ted Labeau. It's like she is almost happy. Maybe she's dating someone." Justin gasped as the arrived as the got in the elevator headed off to lunch.

"Young, naïve Suarez, Willie is in no relationship. I would have been the first to know. Trust me. She's having a mood swing don't worry, once we are back from lunch I assure you there will be tears and name calling, just the way we like it."

**XXX**

Betty walked into her office and sat down with a sigh. She had a hangover like you wouldn't believe and had to interview a designer she was a mess. She heard a knock on the door, and smiled when she saw the person with a bagel in hand and coffee.

"I thought you could use this."

"Yes, I could. Thank you." Betty smiled as the girl sat the items on her desk.

"No Problem. Busy Night?"

"I guess you can say that, took a client out. I swore I wouldn't drink, but it was the dimples."

The girl across from her let out a laugh.

"It's not funny, I have an interview with Valerie Budell about her humanitarian aid for sick children that needs to be done today, and it hurts to even think of little things to say. I can't believe I even got that sentence out."

"Well, I can do it for you."

"No, no. It's my responsibility."

"Betty, I can do it. When it's done I can type it up and put your name on it. No one will even know."

"Well, I guess. I mean if you want."

"I want to. You need to calm down a bit. I got it." She smiled and picked up a pen from Betty's desk. "See you in a bit."

Betty sat back, and took a sip of her coffee. _Thanks Andy_. She thought. She massaged her temples and closed her eyes, she was grateful to have Andy around. She was surprised as anyone when she saw Andy sitting in the lobby of her magazine's building. Andy told her, she left the job at Runway and needed to get away from Miranda. She wanted a purpose, so she came to London. Truth be told, Betty understood her, she needed to escape the craziness of Mode and start over for herself. That's why she liked Andy she was someone to relate to, someone who could be there for her. They were alike in so many ways. Even if she worked for Mode's ultimate rival magazine Runway. She smiled before feeling a pang in her head and she put it on the desk until a sudden ringing noise was heard.

"Ugh." She picked up the phone and put on her best professional voice. "Betty Suarez, how may I help you?"

"Hey Betty."

"Oh its you."

"Ouch. What does that mean?"

"It means I don't have to talk to you know, hangover explain later, bye." She put the phone down, and slammed her head on the desk. Another beep was heard, this time a message in her email.

_From: Amanda Tanen_

_Hey Chico De Betty. Hope all is well. Havin a good ol' day aint you. That was supposed to sound British. Do you have an accent yet? Anyways, just checkin up on ya B. These two months has been cray cray. Marc and Troy are together again, therefore I have moved out on my own can you believe it. 3 queens sharing one space is would be a total disaster. Anyway I told Marc I was leaving and he had some crazy bitch-fest. So basically we ended on a bad note. It's been 6 weeks since I've talked to him. And I kinda miss him B. That's why I'm telling you the Costume Institute Ball is coming up soon. You should so come, those event aren't the same without you. Meaning, its not fun for me to not be able to laugh at you do something completely embarrassing. Anyway, I will let you work now, since you have a boss and aren't a freelance like me._

_Hasta Vista Suarez._

_Mandy. Xoxo_

Betty shut the computer off and smiled. Amanda and Marc kept in close contact with her ever since she left, she never really felt like she was all the way across the pond. She did miss them and her family however; then and there the Costume Ball didn't seem like a bad idea.


	4. Chapter 4

_Yeah the usual. Another chapter. Read and Review. :D_

_xoxo J&R xoxox_

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**Chapter 4**

Nigel walked the long, narrow, white halls swiftly with an apparent sense of ease. However, nothing about him felt at ease as he made his way to the big circular desk station for the phone receptionists. He twirled the large opaque ring around his ring finger as he headed towards the large glass doors emblazoned with the R's on them standing for non-other than Runway itself. It was a nervous habit for him that he had never quite gotten rid of. Rounding the desk and seeing the doors come in view; he flew a sweaty hand to his head smoothing the non-existent hairs that he had used to have, another nervous habit, while straightening his loudly checkered tie.

He passed the desk taking deep calming breaths, his eyes closing between inhales causing assistants and interns alike to move rapidly and hastily to dodge hitting him. Through the swarm of bodies clad in large full skirts and Valentino kitten heels he could just make out the elevator doors on the other side of the glass lights flicker signaling the elevator was on level 3. He stopped, mid gait, reaching out to grasp the edge of the large, semi-circle, cream colored desk adjacent to him. Running a finger in between the collar of his blue-grey sweater and his neck he cooled himself, waiting as the elevators light reached floor 4. _16 more floors to go_.

The woman behind the counter broke from her phone call, placing the caller on hold, while bending over to reach Nigel's ear, "Is it?"

He nodded, his eyes still closed, producing a gasp from the woman behind who now instantly began to stare at the ever-moving lights above the elevator.

Minutes earlier Nigel had received a phone call regarding the latest of his bosses many firings and hiring's. It was a usual and routine ring on his phone down in the art room that he rarely paid attention. When the voice of the red headed subordinate began to read aloud the list of people who had been sacked and how she knew that Sophie from the Beauty department 'needed a face lift' and Tori from Features 'had it coming' he usually tuned out. But today, during their customary hour practice, a name had caught him. Well not the name but the position. So and so position: stylist. His heart had leapt and pounded so hard that he barely knew what was keeping him from not bouncing off the walls of the small art room. When the shrill, _'Niles!'_ came from the phones tiny speaker he realized that he had dropped it. Quickly picking it up he had put it back to his ear.

"When?"

"What?" The voice of Emily said, completely astounded at Niles's apparent non-care for hearing the rest of her list.

"When is the replacement coming?"

"Oh. Uh, I don't know. Why don't you ask Miranda yourself!" She said, forcing the last words out with an outraged expression that he would even dare to interpose on their cherished tradition. She ripped the phone from her ear when she heard his voice again.

"Emily!" He sounded forceful, she placed the phone back at her ear, "When?"

"Oh, one moment," she said, rummaging through the papers that covered her desk to find the list of interviewees for the week. A muffled 'bloody hell' could be heard as the phone slipped ever so slightly from her ear. "Here, Thursday at ten."

"Name?" Nigel asked impatient.

"Why the sudden concern with whose being hired all of a sudden?"

But Nigel hadn't answered. He had merely dropped the phone from his hands, bolting down the hallways to the back of the building where the Editor-in-chiefs office lay. Booking through the glass doors, nearly knocking over a rack as he did, he immediately slowed, calming his pace and leveling his now slightly unkempt outfit. He ignored the call after him as he brushed by the desk of the red headed girl and the now empty desk opposite of it.

He had walked straight into her office without a knock and walked up to where she sat at her desk behind the New York Tribune.

"We're hiring a new stylist?" He asked avidly to what seemed to be only the paper in front of him.

Slowly and deliberately, the paper moved down until the top of the square black reading glasses behind could be seen. The signature grey, short cut hair, and the just as famous forceful glare that went along with it, proving that she was indeed deserving of her name of 'the dragon lady.' She folded the paper in her hands, eyeing him as he stood there.

Finally, when she was done, she replied, "Yes."

"And we didn't inform the art department?" He said.

"It's not my concern for you to know all of my biddings."

Nigel stood there, "But a stylist? They will be going through the art department every day and I haven't seen our new addition and-"

"And it's my decision," She cut him off, his mouth still hanging open where he left it, "My name on the masthead. My magazine. And… She's good."

"Good?" Nigel said, in an almost sarcastic manner, "How so."

"Well you suggested her. You tell me. She'll be here in oh, three minutes." Miranda said not even taking the time to truly read the gold plated watch on her arm before answering.

Just then, as Niles opened his eyes, he saw the elevator lights hit the 19 floor. _One more floor._

He had been suggesting, hoping, and even occasionally praying that this would happen. He knew this would work and turn out to be the best comeback a magazine could ever make. He needed this to work.

Just then the great gold doors of the middle elevator binged and sprung open revealing the person within. An immense smile instantly emerged on Niles's lips as he took in the sight of the blonde girl stepping out of the elevator seemingly confused by the almost dauntingly large foyer of Runway.

**xXx**

Coming through Marc slammed the door shut to his bedroom. He had a massive headache and the noise from the reverberating door didn't help it in one bit.

He sunk down onto the corner of his bed as his hands rubbed his temples and placed his pinkies over his shut eyes. He had had a long day of nothing but work. Picking up sun hats for a possible other spread, checking to make sure that pier 59 was open for shooting three hours earlier then it had been originally agreed, calming down countless designers who had found his reviews of their shows raw, and keeping his new intern preoccupied with small tasks so that he could figure the things of being a partial creative director out. He loosened the large brass buttons of his purple jacket, careful not to poke himself on the sharp edges of the glass brooch he had pinned to the upper left corner above the pockets.

The events of the day had taken such a toll on him that the moment his phone stood still and did not ring he bolted, out of the office and straight home. It had been the hardest thing to get used too. Coming home and not finding his best friend Amanda waiting for him at the kitchen table with either her feet draped over it and nail polish skewered all over the place or her holding two martinis in her hands. One Fair Lady for him and either a Chi-Chi or a Painkiller for her, depending on her mood. He was so irate at her for leaving that when she had moved out the house had instantly gone quite without her there to talk to and explain his day too. He saw her even less at Mode now that her styling career had taken off; and whenever he got the chance to lay eyes on her they never spoke. The emptiness of the apartment seemed to be personified as he realized he still had not seen Troy who, he supposed, was working another late night with Wilhelmina as they prepared to wrap this month's magazine.

Marc didn't mind as he slipped off his Prada shoes and Mark Westman tie.

Troy had been coming home late the past few days as the deadline drew nearer and tonight it gave Marc an undisturbed silence, allowing him to possibly fall asleep without worry of waking up the light snorer next to him. Marc slipped into the bed on his side pulling the covers over up to his neck.

He laid there for a total of seven minutes before tossing and turning as to try and find a comfortable spot. He fidgeted, thrashing the covers when a sudden heat wave caught him off guard, only resulting in his headache to become even more existent. He turned in the now few sheets, to his side before rolling over once more, nearly hitting his head on the night table beside his pillow. At once he sat straight up, his head now throbbing. He knew exactly what this was, though it hadn't hit him this hard in a long time…

Insomnia.

Marc yanked the covers over his head.

**xXx**

The lights flickered as the ticking black clock that sat adjacent to her hallway struck off the late hour. She dropped her bag down in the seat closest to the door as she made her way through the room. The stress that had been cascading over her the whole day seemed to be bottled up inside and now seeking a release before she exploded. She headed to the back of her apartment to her room. Once inside she let the door hang open as she found her way to the closet to hang her light jacket. Undoing the buckles and stepping out of her Sergio Rossi heels she turned back to the vast room, discarding her dress on the rack of previously worn clothing. The October issue was finished, polished and ready for print. She and Troy had stayed at Mode the whole night going over countless spreads and ad placements before finally being satisfied with the ending result. It was perfect and would definitely put Runway to shame again as there June issue had done the month previous. With that thought in mind, Wilhelmina allowed herself to slip into her luxurious bed to get her much wanted sleep. Reaching her hand out to click the light on her nightstand something caught her eye. The calendar under the light with important dates circled on in black pen and one circled with a large red loop. She clicked off the light dozing into an unbroken slumber.

**xXx**

The lunch hall was crowded as Andy made her way through all of women, and an assortment of flamboyantly dressed men, circling the salad bar. She smiled as the line for the soup section was vaguely deserted except for the occasional HR assistant who didn't get the memo that workers don't eat. She passed through getting her usual corn chowder, placing it carefully on her tightly packed tray, while walking towards her usual table.

Walking up, the sights of the beauty editor, Clara, Art editor, Eddie, and Accessories editor. Jess, came into view. 'Where's Betty?'

"Banned from society!" Came the voice of Eddie causing the other two editors to laugh. His bottle blonde hair spiked up to the max with the bangs swiping down in front of his eyes in a curl.

"Ah, doing the Rihanna look I see," Andy piped up, "Isn't that last year? It's a little dated even for you."

The mans mouth fell slightly open as his wrist snapped up to touch the curl in front of his eye making sure it was in pristine condition.

"So," Andy said, placing her tray down on the table. She had grown accustom to the many daily insults against her co-worker and friend Betty. She had learned that the only way to get information or answers out of any of the other editors was to play back… well not the only way, but it was the quickest. "Where's Betty?"

This time the brunette girl on the end with the perfectly shaped eyebrows and flawless British accent answered, "Last I heard she was off to go meet a client for lunch."

"Oh, that's strange. We were supposed to go over a paper that I wrote for her," Andy instantly covered her mouth the moment the words slipped out.

"You wrote a paper for her?" The other girl, Jess, said, raising her eyebrow.

Andy's heart rate went up slightly under the blonde woman's stare as she tried to avoid her eyes.

"I-"

"OH!" Eddie nearly choked over his bite of garden salad. "Oh! It wasn't that man that walked into the office this morning looking all confused was it Clara? He was hot!"

"Yes that's him, I was shocked too!"

"What? Betty's got a lunch with him? What is that mans name?"

"Daniel or something like that," Clara answered, waving her fork with a piece of salad and tomatoes still poked onto it.

"Wait, Daniel?" Andy asked, now looking intently at Clara, avoiding Jess's gaze.

"Mhmm," Clara mouthed over another bite of her salad, "she wouldn't tell me his last name when I asked. She completely skirted the question with some lame 'can't talk now' excuse."

"That's called jealousy honey!" Eddie said, "she knows that if she tells you who he really is you'll take him away from her in a-" Eddie snapped his well manicured fingers together, "sec."

"They're not dating," Clara said.

"How do you know?" Eddie asked wiggling his over plucked eyebrows. "She wouldn't tell you his last name. Why would she hide that?"

"I can just tell. What are you doing with that?" Clara asked noting Eddies electric blue Blackberry that was now in his hands.

"Google dear, get with the program."

**xXx**

Amanda spun around. The whole place looked so very different. So white and large.

'_Oh my God! Its like the gay version of Startrek!'_

"Amanda Tannen?"

Amanda gasped nearly tripping over her new electric purple suede heels. "Sommers," she said to the man who seemingly appeared out of no where with his eyebrows raised and lips perked. "Uh, my name is Amanda Tannen-Sommers."

"Right, of course. This way Mrs. Sommers."

"Tannen-Sommers. The names are together."

"Right," he began to turn.

"Right," Amanda mumbled as she kicked herself in the side as Betty's advice came back to her. _Rule #23 Never let them get away without a name. Smile and just ask_. "What's-a-your-name?" Amanda jumbled her words together barely making a sentence.

The man turned back to her over his shoulder looking at her through his circular glasses before turning back and walking down the long white hall. Amanda stopped in her tracks behind him. _Rule 23 check and fail._

Amanda made her way threw the long hall, nary a circular glass window, random display of shoes on a display, or an orange tube to be found. She looked to her sides as the sounds of muffled whispers, and gasps escaped the monochrome dressed workers.

The man in front of her took a sharp turn nearly causing her to run into the jutting desk because of her fixation on the tweed jacket he was sporting as he opened the doors he was standing at.

"Glass," she mumbled.

"What?"

"Uh, its glass."

The man looked back at the glass door that he was holding then slowly craned his neck back to her, Amanda gasped, scared at the almost mechanical movement. "Yes, it is."

He walked through and she followed, kicking herself again for feeling embarrassed at her sudden realization that at least this place had one glass door_. Rule #37 As Eleanor Roosevelt said, 'no one can make you inferior without your consent.' Well there's another failed rule, _Amanda thought_, man Betty, strike two_.

"Oh my God."

Amanda jumped, startled by the vividly red headed girl popping out of her seat behind her desk as she walked in, "Oh my God!"

"What?" Amanda said, looking from the man in front of her who had now turned around, leaning on the desk with his arms crossed and a grin on his face, to the girl who was now making her way around the desk.

"Nigel you didn't tell me it was-" the girl said, looking from the man and back.

The man named Nigel smirked, closing his eyes and nodding his head slightly.

"Oh my God!" The girl exclaimed again. Amanda literally thought she saw her dramatically red lined lips drop to the soles of her Nicholas Kirkwood stacked platforms.

"Eh…what?" Amanda said. The red headed girl with her almost garishly lined eyes, who Amanda now recognized as the assistant by her name tag on the desk behind her, turned back an almost sinister smile appeared on her face.

"You're the new stylist?"

"Um… Yeah, I put out a resume and Elias-Clarke was first to pull me on board. They said their flagship magazine called and asked for me personally. Must have seen my work!"

The girls smile seemed to grow even larger on her relatively small face, "Emily Charlton," She said thrusting her hand out to shake.

"Amanda-"

"Tannen."

Amanda froze in mid shake. That voice had not come from either of the two in front of her. She whipped her head around, her blonde curls bouncing back because of the ferocity of the hair flip. There in front of her stood none other then the Editor-in-chief of Runway. The one everyone in the fashion industry referred to as 'the dragon lady.' Miranda Presley.

"Sommers," Amanda said before she could stop herself. The girls eyes widened in shock as she felt the stunned and horrified looks of the two now behind her on her back, no doubt staring between her and Miranda.

The woman, dressed in a thick fur collar coat, long pencil straight skirt down past her knees, and a black transparent pair of nylons that died off in the sudden burst of red that came from her so sharply pointed heels, stared at her. Amanda counted her breaths as they might just be the last she ever had. Instantly she racked her memory for any of the rules that she had read from Betty's unfinished book that could help her in her situation. She came up with none.

When she finally had detached herself from Mode, a few months after she had resigned, Wilhelmina had become so unlike herself that she had thought no person could ever match the ferocity and sheer horror that she had created in anyone who crossed her path. But she was dead wrong. The woman who now stood in front of her had done it in a second without even a raise of her eyebrows. Then out of what seemed like an eternity of standing there frozen to the spot Amanda spoke.

"Sommers. Tannen-Sommers. The names are two and together and their both me."

"Right. Terribly sorry," the woman said. Amanda shot an unbelieving eye open that had been closed out of fear to see Miranda coming nearer to her. "Tannen-Sommers. Of course, come this way."

Amanda looked at her completely and utterly confused. She wore a smile on her face that Amanda had never seen before. It neither scared her nor made her feel secure but it was a smile and Miranda Presley didn't smile.

Miranda turned around heading back into her office of which she had just came from before, turning to see Amanda still rooted there to the spot.

"Aren't you coming or do you not want this job as head stylist Ms. Tannen-Somers?"

Amanda's heart jumped up into her throat as the woman signaled again for her to follow. She did so instantly remembering what Betty had written. _Rule #5 courage courage courage. Just do it and you will be rewarded. _

The girl followed into the office leaving the two friends behind her to gawk.

**xXx**

Daniel sat the table staring at his drink as he had been for the past seven minutes. He couldn't get the though out of his head that had been bugging him the whole week. The whole of the past few weeks. He knew he should be listening to the person he was sitting across from but he couldn't help his mind from drifting.

"Daniel… Daniel?"

"What?"

"Are you listening to me?"

He nodded.

Betty leaned forward on her elbows, "You know I worked for you for four years. I can tell when you're lying."

He took a drink from his glass avoiding his friend's eyes.

"Daniel why are you here?"

"Im eating lunch."

"No. You asked me to lunch. We haven't spoken in weeks. So why are you here in London. Why did you come? "

Daniel stared out of the window behind the table where they sat watching kids parading with their parents and couples walking hand in hand.

'_Daniel.'_

'_Yeah.'_

'_Will you check over these.'_

'_These what,' he said._

'_You would know if you looked this way.'_

_A smile formed on his lips. He had kept his head hung down over the spread he had been examining because he hadn't wanted to let her to see the smile of satisfaction on his face._

'_Daniel,' she said loosing patience._

'_Eh, what.'_

'_Im not showing you until you look at me.'_

_He looked up to see Wilhelmina standing next to him holding something small in her hands._

'_What's that?' He asked._

_She looked down; opening her clasped hands to reveal two sparkling ruby's on the inside. 'These are none other then Jackie _

_Onassis's, or Jackie Kennedy as she was know at the time, ruby earrings, given to her by her lover Aristotle Onassis. It was said she only ever wore them twice before she had them locked into a New York bank vault.'_

'_And what do you want me to do with them?'_

'_I want you to take them and hide them.'_

'_What?'_

'_They are also the key piece for Vogue's center spread.'_

'_Wait! These are it? Why are you giving them to me?'_

'_Because I trust you.'_

'_What?'_

'_You heard me,' She said looking up at him, 'Don't make me say it again.'_

He had never returned the earrings. He was shaken by something in the present touching his elbow. Looking down he saw Betty sliding a paper over the table.

"What's this?"

"An invitation to the Costume Gala Ball."

"Betty I don't want-" He began.

"Enough. You've been here for the past three months and I've seen you a grand total of six times. You haven't done anything and every time we do meet you seem to be somewhere else entirely. Which I'm sick of and you should be to. So I'm giving you a reason to go back. To put a close to whatever it is that has a hold on you and begin to live your life as the man I know you are."

"It's not that easy."

"Really. why not?"

"Because... it's just not."

"Well," Betty said pushing the envelope back at him, "Take it. It's not until December so you've got about a month to think about it."

Betty stood up walking away to leave. Daniel waved for the check. On his way out he made his way past the bathroom throwing the invitation in his hands away.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N Here's another chapter. Sorry for the delay. School is starting again soon which means SHOPPING! Anyways. Here is another chapter. Enjoy!**_

_**J & R**_

_**

* * *

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**Chapter 5**

"Did you find it yet?" Nigel asked peeping out of the glass door, keeping an eye out for unexpected visitors.

The office was closed, well supposed to be closed. Emily made a deal with the security people; a deal Nigel had no interest of knowing. All he wanted was what they broke into Miranda's office to find, how the dumb receptionist from Mode got the job as stylist at Runway.

He tried and tried but he couldn't piece why Miranda would bring Amanda on board, did she want to destroy her magazine. His thoughts were interrupted by the red-head in the corner.

"No. I mean how hard is it to find a big black portfolio case!" She exclaimed aloud and opened a drawer in the office. Sighing as she looked at the contents. "Great."

"What?" Nigel walked to where Emily stood, and saw what she was talking about. "We better get to it, then."

He reached down and grabbed the first one looking through its contents for a name; they did the same thing several times before closing the drawer in defeat.

"This is hopeless." Emily sat down in Miranda's chair and swerved around eyes landing on the prize.

"Oh my God. I found it."

Nigel quickly got off the floor and walked over to the large desk, with a black portfolio book with "Amanda Tannen-Sommers" scribbled across.

"How did we miss this?" He asked Emily.

"I don't k-"

"That was rhetorical." He sat opposite her and opened it, scanning over the contents. He looked up to face Emily and was glad to know they had the same reaction. She broke the silence breaking out into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

"This is absolutely hideous." Emily managed to spit out.

"I know did she really think she could bring back parachute pants."

"I mean only a clown would be able to wear this. O-M-G, she is so not styling our November issue. She cannot. That'd be a crime!" Emily laughed and stopped when she saw the seriousness of Nigel's face.

"What?"

"Why would Miranda do this?"

"I have no idea, unless she really has lost her mind."

"No, I doubt it. There's more to this. More than she's letting us know. But you better believe we will damn sure find out." He slammed the book shut and threw it on the desk, causing the red-head to jump in her seat.

"Wow, you're one angry gay."

"And you're a fat- size 4-ass, get out of Miranda's seat she knows prints." He stood up and walked out of the office without a second glance. Emily stood up mouth agape, and craned her neck to her backside.

"It's not that fat." She said to herself before following him out.

**Xxx**

The next morning Wilhelmina woke up, she felt a warm body next to her that wasn't there the night before. This was the 4th night in a row it happened, and quite frankly she was tired of it. Normally she'd let it go, not question him. Because it was something they needed to work on; Trust. This was the last straw however, with their history; trust wouldn't be able to come for another 18 years.

"Where were you?" She asked still facing the other way; eyes still closed not wanting to get up.

"I met up with a friend." He kissed her neck.

She finally turned to face him, opening her eyes and he flashed the smile that always made her melt. As much as she would have loved to smile back, she held her composure and gave him a fixed stare.

"What friend?"

"Does it matter?" He leaned in again, but she this time moved her head away sitting up straight on the headboard, clearly not amused.

"Ray, who?" She didn't sound angry, or pissed. More out of worry and concern. He noted it and looked at her. He ran his dark hands over his face, and that sign gave it away for her.

"I can't believe this." She shook her head at him and turned the other way to lie down, her back to him. He pulled at her shoulder.

"C'mon Wil. It's not like that at all."

She continued to ignore him and face the wall despite the strong grip he had on her shoulder. He finally prevailed and got her on her back, immediately hovering over her.

"It's not what you think."

"Really? It's not. You're not slipping back into bad habits, because all of the signs are pointing that you are u-"

"I'm not Wilhelmina. I have changed, I told you that 5 months ago. I needed to change, you made that clear to me 18 years ago. I did it."

"Then why were you meeting with him."

"He needed help."

"Get off of me." She struggled to extract herself from under him, pushing at his biceps to move, with failed attempted his strong hands were placed firmly on either side of her.

"Not that kind of help Wil. Damien wants to get clean. He really does, his wife threw him out, he has no job because we know his criminal record, he can't see his kids. He's stuck Wil."

"I'm sorry. Am I supposed to feel bad for him?" She mock pouted pretending to care.

"Wil, the Center is the only place he can go. I promise you I'm not falling into old habits. I'm helping out a friend."

"So you still call him your friend. After all the shit he put us through."

"You learn to forgive Willie... Like you forgave me."

She pursed her lips looking deep into his brown eyes. "I don't like being taken advantage of. I don't like feeling inferior. And I don't like being played, Raymond."

"I'm not doing any of that, I swear."

"Let me finished. I forgave you once. If you pull any shit with me, I swear on Prada. I will never forgive you again. Understood."

He smiled at her, and this time she allowed herself to smile back, he leaned in for a quick kiss.

"Yes. Ma'am, I understand completely. But honestly Wil I promise you it was n-"

"Shut up, and kiss me." She pulled him down to her making him forget his train of thought and to push away the feeling in her gut that told her something she refused to believe.

**Xxx**

She finally was able to escape the clutches of Ray, and made it into the office around 10 o'clock. Heading straight towards her desk, the usual flamboyant man that was leaning on her glass desk, wasn't there.

"Where's Marc?"

Troy looked at her and shrugged.

"You don't know. Aren't you two, you know whatever gay people do."

"Marc and I had a fight. So I stayed somewhere else. He was flipping out on me about not b-"

"I really don't care, Trever. Call him, tell him he has 15 minutes to be here."

"Yeah, Okay, Sure." He nodded and scooted to the phones, and immediately began dialing.

She walked in her office and was startled by an uninvited visitor as her chair swiveled around and she was faced with a smiling Justin Suarez.

"Hi, Miss. Slater!"

"Is there a particular reason you are sitting in my seat?"

"Nope." He hopped out and circled the desk gesturing her to have her seat back, she nodded in approval and sat down, opening her laptop.

She looked up when she saw the boy still in front of her with a big smile on his face.

"Okay you are still here. I thought you would have gotten the hint. And why are you smiling at me?" Wilhelmina looked at the boy, with a hard expression, well she tried to, but there was something calming in his presence. Her expression softened and became an amused smirk.

"No reason. I got here early, and no one was here yet, so I just waited around. Marc, isn't here to boss me around so why not go to the boss herself."

"I already have an assistant thank you," She said, looking back down at her computer.

"That may be true, but the life of Wilhelmina Slater is very demanding. One assistant will hardly suffice."

She looked back up to see the young boy, dressed in an a stylish crisp shirt and jeans ensemble, still standing there. "Touche. You know me well."

"Well, I have only worshipped you all my life. Really, Mode is my bible. You are God. Plain and simple."

She laughed. "Well I'm flattered. Marc should be here in a few I guess in the meantime get me my coffee."

"You got it." He turned and left her office. She smiled before realizing she didn't tell him how she liked her coffee, but decided to let him go, he probably knew it anyway.

**xxx**

As Justin was walking back to the Meade Building from Starbucks he spotted a familiar figure rushing to the doors.

"Marc!" Justin called. The man turned around and looked at Justin quizzically.

"What's that?"

"Wilhelmina's coffee."

"One cream, two sugars?" Marc asked slightly out of breath from the recent running of the last block.

"Just the way she likes it."

"Give me that." He snatched the cup from his hands and walked into the elevator closing it, leaving Justin behind.

Ridding up the elevators he tapped his shoes against the tiles, he got the phone call 10 minutes ago from Troy. _Troy_. He wasn't expecting to hear his voice, after yet another fight, he didn't come home. As worried as Marc could have been he wasn't, work needed to be done, that was what got them in this predicament now. _Work._ Troy had said Marc was investing too much into Mode and not enough into them, which was far from the truth. _Sort of_.

He stepped out the elevator making his way down the tube and headed straight to Wilhelmina's office without looking at Troy on the way.

"Oh Willie! Coffee is here." He strode into her office with a big smile on his face, setting the coffee next to her.

"Is this a way to compensate for you coming in late?"

"Is it working?"

"No," She said with no apparent emotion.

He frowned. "Sorry, Willie. I've had a lot on my plate, I had to meet with that new designer in Chelsea about the "Hot Upcoming Designers" for the November issue, in addition to scouting locations for the centre spread, which by the way I have some pictures for you." He placed them in front of her.

"Marc, why are there pictures of a naked Jake Gyllenhaal on my desk?"

Marc's eyed widened. "Oops, so sorry," He scrambled, "wrong ones!" He snatched them away and handed her the other folder while clearing his throat. "I'm going to, you know, put all of this at my desk. Be right back!" He smiled and carried the heavy load back to his desk.

Tossing his jacket on the back of his chair, his briefcase under his desk before putting the Gyllenhaal photos in it, he straightened his jacket and took a deep breath he spotted the young Suarez walking to Wilhelmina's office. Another cup in his hand.

He hurried into the office, and saw as Justin put the cup on her desk.

"Here you go."

She didn't acknowledge him, she simply pointed to the cup on her desk giving him the hint, she didn't need him to give her coffee.

"I see. Well, is that what you wanted? I figured you should try something different. I present you with the Cinnamon Dolce Latte an extravagant drink for someone just as extravagant. " He ran his hand up and down the cup, as if he was Vanna White, and Wilhelmina won a prize from Wheel of Fortune. "And I promise it's delish. Try it." She looked up and he pushed it to Wilhelmina's face, and much to everyone's surprise brought the liquid to her lips.

After a few seconds she put the cup down. "This is pretty good."

"I told you. And I told them to use Nonfat Milk with no whipped cream, it's under 200 calories." Justin smiled.

"You're good." Wilhelmina said amused and returned her attention to photos on her desk.

"Ohhhh pictures." He looked at them. "May I?"

Wilhelmina nodded and Justin's mouth formed an "O."

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just I like these locations but, I feel that they are playing it safe. MODE is daring, you guys think outside of the box. Go above and beyond, do something daring, this isn't Runway is it? Then again I'm only a silly 15 year old who cant even legally drive yet! What do I know about what's good?"

"Hmm." Wilhelmina tapped her chin. Marc, standing at the doorway cleared his throat.

"Is there a problem?" Marc asked.

"These locations, they are good, but I want something different."

"Like?" He asked baffled.

"Like, edgier, bolder, better. Take mini-me here with you and see what you can find."

"Field TRIPPPP." Justin clapped his hands and squealed.

"Uh-Sure." A defeated Marc turned on his heels.

"Marc wait," She held out the coffee he brought her earlier, "here."

"You don't want it?"

"You can have it, I think little Suarez helped me find a new favorite drink." She said, acknowledging the boy next to her.

"Of course he did." Marc mumbled taking the drink from her hands.

**Xxx**

Betty walked into her office finding Andy sitting on her sofa seat.

"Hey."

"Morning Betty. Rough night?"

"Daniel. Sometimes I wonder why he is even here. He has no job, he sits at home all day long, and bothers me about how he has nothing to do!" With each confession Betty's voice went up a pitch.

"Boy trouble, Suarez." Clara, with her perfectly shaped eyebrows, said from the doorframe, smirking as she put a piece of mail on her desk.

"No." She turned to open the mail, and noticed it had already been opened. "Clara, why is this open?"

"I have no idea. Must have been . He has struck quite a few times around here, I will catch him though. Speaking of being around a few times, who's that guy that is always here for you? A boyfriend, is this who we are talking about?" Clara asked intently.

"No he's not my boyfriend, he was my boss back in New York, and is being a pain at the moment."

"Maybe I can help you relieve that pain." She wringed her hands.

"You're talking about Daniel right?"

"Yes silly. He's freakin' gorgeous. I would so let him plant in my flower garden."

"I don't even know what that means." Andy chimed in.

"Anyways," Clara said, rolling her eyes at the girls' innocence, "if he is bothering you I'm sure I can do something to lighten the load for you. So you can actually work, and not have other people write articles for you."

Betty widened her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Sorry, Betty it slipped out. Only to them I swear." Andy said.

Betty sighed and looked at Clara. "What do you want?"

"A date. Me and hunky Meade there."

"That all?"

"For now. Thanks Betty." She turned on her heel and walked out of the office feeling victorious.

"Betty, it was an accident I would never tell her on purpose," Andy said looking at her colleague.

"It's fine. Thanks for doing it though I really appreciate it. If you need anything, I owe you one."

"Well… there is something you can do for me." Andy looked up with promising eyes.

**Xxx**

"You did what!" Daniel was yelling at Betty who was seated on the couch.

"Look, all you have to do, is take her out. Show her a good time and then go home. Simple."

"Simple. Betty I know nothing about this woman, she could try to kill me for all we know."

"I know her, and I know you. You guys will be great. Think Amanda."

"You see how well that worked out."

"Daniel, come on. You have been here for what almost 4 months, and you barely leave this place, unless you are coming to bug me at work. You must get tired of that? Clara is pretty, and well, pretty. She's lots of fun, you need fun, instead of all of this moping you've been doing recently. Please? I'm asking you to do this."

Daniel snorted, "Fine."

Betty clapped her hands and started dialing away on the phone. He sat on the couch and titled his head back passing a hand over his eyes.

**Xxx**

At 7 o'clock he was dropped off at the Harvey Nichols building, he looked up at how tall and extravagant it was.

_This will be expensive_. He sighed to himself and walked to open the doors. The foyer had elegant white marbled floors and gold elevators on the side. He walked to the desk where he saw an employee typing data into a computer.

"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to the restaurant?"

"Which?"

"Um, the uh, you know I have no idea, can you look in the computer for a Daniel Meade?"

"Daniel Meade?" He heard his name called, but not from the man. This voice was much softer with a British accent; he turned his head to look at the gorgeous brunette behind him.

"Clara?"

"Yes, that's me." She walked up closer to him, "It's the top floor. Has a great view of the city." She grabbed his hand leading him to the elevators, and reluctantly he followed.

This would be a long night.

**Xxx**

Wilhelmina got into the apartment after yet another late night in the office. They took the issue to the printer and as usual Wilhelmina wanted her copy first, the printer got in a huff about some family gathering and couldn't stay all night she could get it in the morning. They were there till 11 and Wilhelmina had the issue in her hands as she set it on the kitchen counter.

She went to the cupboard and got a glass, and grabbed a bottle of wine filling the glass nearly to the rim, she brought it up to her lips when a hand came out and snatched it from her.

She looked over as Ray had the glass raised to his lips and drank from it under her menacing and yet slightly apprehensive stare.

"Yum." He smiled and handed it back to her. It was now half empty. "It's late," He stated.

"I know, long, stressful, hectic day." She took a swig seeing that he was fine.

He stood behind her and brought his hands to her shoulders, massaging them. She relished in the feeling placing her hands on the edge of the counter.

"That's the life you lead, Miss big shot Editor-In-Chief of Mode."

"I know it was just much easier when I wasn't doing all the work. In some ways, having someone else there to help with the load isn't such a bad thing."

"Like Daniel?" She went rigid under his touch and turned around his arms so that she was now facing him.

"You know what, I need a tension reliever. Do you have anything in mind?" She wore a smirk on her face, and he wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'm sure I could think of a few." He leaned in to kiss her, and she responded with more force, placing the glass in her hand behind her on the counter moving her hands to the nape of his neck.

He held tight to her waist and lifted her on the surface of the counter, never ceasing assault on her mouth. Moving to stand in between her legs, his hands ran up her thighs under the skirt and applied pressure there causing her to moan. She kissed him hungrily to forget the words he said earlier, but with failed attempts. He began to kiss the skin on her neck, and she titled her head back to let the feeling wash over her, his hand moved to his button-up and began undoing the buttons carefully, delighted from the effect her hands had as the ran over his pectoral muscles.

He shivered, and moved to lift her shirt up and over her head breaking contact for the briefest second, in that second Wilhelmina thought back to when Ray said Daniels name, he leaned in and this time she didn't respond.

"What?" He asked breathlessly.

"Not here." She lied.

"Oh I see. Bedroom?"

She nodded. "You go ahead. I uh, have to make a quick call."

"A call? Willie we were about to have sex, and you have to make a phone call?"

"Shut up, it's better delayed than no sex at all." She said, moving out of his grip.

He nodded, before turning around and walking towards the hall. "Don't keep me waiting long."

Wilhelmina chuckled at his crooked smile and hopped of the counter. She went to the phone and took it off the hook, dialing a familiar number without looking.

**Xxx**

"Ohmygod! That is amazing! I couldn't give up a position like that. Everyone dreams of being the Editor in Chief of a magazine. You're a brave soul Mr. Meade," Clara laughed.

"Well, I felt the need to start over you know."

"Or you were running away from something?" Clara prodded, raising one of her unflawed eyebrows.

Daniel choked on his wine. "I don't know what you mean."

"People often flee to avoid problems or conflict. There is no way in hell you would give up an Editor position to start over all the way in London, there is more to it. More than you are letting on. It's fine though," She said, picking up his drink and filling it, "a few more drinks and you will spill."

Daniel laughed, a genuine laugh. "Maybe." He put the napkin down and excused him self from the table, to go to the restroom. Clara looked down and noticed he left his blackberry sitting on the table and let her curiosity get the better of her. As she picked it up, it immediately began to vibrate. She frantically started pressing buttons, and, instead of silencing it, pressed the 'answer' button.

She gulped and looked towards the bathroom before holding it up to her ear.

"Uh, hello?"

"Hi, wait. I'm sorry is this not Daniel Meade's?" Came the voice through the receiver.

"Oh it is, I'm Clara, Daniel is in the bathroom, and he should be out shortly though. Not unless that cute ass of his got stuck on the toilet." She let out an obnoxious laugh before acknowledging the person on the other line.

"I can leave a message if you want," she said, in her impeccable British accent, "We are in the middle of something and I doubt if he will be able to talk now, but I'm sure when he wakes up in the morning he would return your call."

"Uh, hello?" She heard the dial tone, and a beep that said the call had ended. She shrugged and put it back on the table just in time to see Daniel walking back.

"Hey, did I miss anything?" Daniel joked. Clara looked at him and then his blackberry, smiling, "Nothing at all."

**Xxx**

Wilhelmina put the phone back down on the receiver.

_He went all the way to London for a meaningless hook-up? He could have done that here!_ Wilhelmina thought to herself. _This was just like him; his whole speech about trying to change and starting over was a bunch of bullshit._ She looked at the phone and with one click, deleted the number.

"Fuck you Daniel Meade."


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry for the delay. College has begun and I am having fun. :D Enjoy. _

_R and J_

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**Chapter 6**

The ride from the restaurant had been a relatively short one. With the city passing rapidly behind them Daniel took a moment to stare at his date sitting on the opposite side of the cab. Her brunette hair that fell right at her shoulders, her perfectly shaped eyebrows, her impeccably short dress which he had just taken into account for the first time that night.

"What are you staring at Mr. Meade?"

"Nothing, and please call me Daniel."

The girl turned to him, raising one of her eyebrows, "Mm, I'm not sure if I like that as much."

They both let out a laugh.

"So how do you know Betty?" He asked, hoping to keep the light feeling between them.

"Let's not talk about Betty," Clara said, inching closer to him from where she sat. "I don't want to think about her at the moment. Not right now."

"Uh," Daniel said, thinking rapidly of something else to talk about. She inched closer to him and now he could make out the small mole above her upper lip. "Uh have you always had that?"

"Had what?" She asked now nearly on top of him.

"That," Daniel pointed to the mole. "Your mole."

"Oh," Clara said staring at him with the light that was reflected from the streets, "Yes. Since I was born."

"Ah so it's not a fashion statement or something like Cindy Crawford's because believe it or not hers is a fake." He said almost rambling his words. "Yeah, I dated her once, and believe me, when she's gets drunk, that's after about two martinis, she will tell you or do anything."

"Huh," Clara said, moving ever so slightly back from where she had been advancing, "Seems like I might need to try that," she said under her breath. But Daniel hadn't noticed. He kept talking, not willing himself to make eye contact with her.

"Yeah and she almost got it removed once," He said, more talking to himself then anyone in particular, "But that was because Wilhelmina was forcing her too," He chuckled at the memory. "When she didn't she was immediately terminated from the Mode models list. Wilhelmina hates moles, you see. Yeah, she thinks there disgusting and will straight out fire someone for having one!" He gestured once to Clara's making her retreat fully.

"Not that yours is bad!" Daniel said, looking at her change in face as her eyebrow raised. "That's just Wilhelmina's view."

Clara, who had been silently the whole time spoke up," Who's this Wilhelmina you keep talking about?"

"Um." Daniel said_. What was she?_ He hadn't really thought about it in reference to him. _A co-worker? An insane bitch who is always undermining him at every turn? No, not any more,_ he thought, over his last few weeks at Mode, she had changed. She had become more then a co-worker, she had even stopped fighting him. Well for the most part, they didn't fight over the little things and she let him take on more responsibilities. They had begun to actually work together for a change. Though she hadn't ever said it, and none of the workers around them, except for the possibility of Marc, had noticed, but they had felt the change. They had begun to see each other as they really were, her for her determination and dedication and him for his willingness to try and fail, but to always get back up and try again. She had even said that she was amazed at how, even through all that she had thrown at him, he always tried again, never taking no for an answer. Never running away. "She's-"

"Oh good," came Clara's exasperated voice from the seat next to him where she now fully sat, "We're here."

She immediately got out of the car, walking around it only to stop in front of his window when he didn't follow.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Uh," Daniel said looking up at the building she was standing ahead of.

"C'mon." She said, opening his door.

"He's coming with me," Clara said to the driver as she shut the door to the cab after paying him. The driver looked from her to Daniel and let out a small whistle. Daniel snapped his head back around, to see as the driver sped off down the road leaving them completely alone. Clara grabbed him by the arm, linking her hand with his, smiling. Daniel stood there stone still. "C'mon," she said again, "I won't bite."

With that she walked forward, dragging him by the sleeve of his coat. She walked up the front steps of the building before turning back to him. Jammed in between the small pillars at the front entrance, her body pressed into his, her small hand still on his arm. "This is me." She said, flashing a smile at him.

"Uh huh."

She swayed to the side for a moment, Daniel feeling every move she made, "Aren't you going to wish me good night?" She asked, moving her head closer to his.

Daniel said nothing but looking up at the tall door of her building. She let go of him, pulling out a key from seemingly now where since her dress was too short on material to have pockets and she didn't carry a bag. _Wilhelmina always carried a bag,_ he thought.

"Look," she said, the door to her apartment now open as she stepped inside. "You're very elusive Mr. Meade and I've had a fun night, but now you have to wish me a goodnight."

Before Daniel could say anything of a 'good-bye' she had her hands on his coat collar and had pulled him inside the building. "You can do it in here," she said, putting a finger to his lips "That way I know you can't run away."

xXx

Marc threw his head back, knocking it violently against the head rest behind him. For the last forty minutes or so drive back into the city he had been entertained by the 15 year old boy talking animatedly next to him about how amazing some of the sights they had visited were. But at that very moment he didn't feel entertained. He wasn't enjoying a single bit of the yammering's of the boy that seemed to be on a continuous, never ending, hamster wheel of torture, cycle. It had been another tough day for him. The second day of scouting out new places for the center spread and, as it looked from the moment, another failed attempt. His head was spinning faster than the wheels under him were turning as he drove the expanse of the road before him. Last night he and Troy had argued again. But this had been one of their all-time worst. It had happened over the phone. _He didn't even have the decency to do it in person,_ Marc had thought as he read through the long and strongly worded text that Troy had sent to him. It covered all the same points that they had been arguing over for the past few weeks. He was too obsessed with his new position as Acting Creative Director and let it take up all of his time, He never spent any time invested in the relationship, and whenever there was a minute that they could spend together he was to infatuated thinking that it would be a minute wasted if he weren't working. _Time, time, time,_ Marc thought as his head whirled. _Time! It's like all he cared about is himself and his precious time!_ It was infatuating! _Didn't he see that he had been working overtime to prove his worth, and once he did that he could start taking 'time off' to spend with him? Couldn't he see that he was doing it for the relationship? _The flurry of thoughts and emotions swarming in Marcs head began to mush making him lose sight of the road for a minute as the voice next to him rang in his ears.

"So I think that the we should go with Yankee stadium for or center spread. It's cool and it covers a whole new demographic for the magazine. Oh," Justin squealed, "and we can feature this winters new pinstripe trend there because of the Yankees being known for their pinstripes, saying that they were the inspiration behind it all!"

Marc flung his head back yet again, his grip tightening on the wheel through his leather Prada gloves.

"Marc," Came Justin's voice again, "are you ok?"

Marc opened his mouth slightly, angling his jaw before closing it, "I'm, fine."

"Are you sure?" The boy asked, "Cause you haven't seemed like yourself ever since we got paired to work together."

Keeping his eyes on the road he inhaled through his nose, there was no way he was going to tell this kid his problems.

Justin took in a deep breath, "Um. Marc? Is it something I've said or done cause I don't mean to-"

Instantly Troy's face appeared in Marcs mind clouding his vision for a moment. Those were the same words Troy had said to him the night before all of the fighting and arguing had begun_. 'Because I don't mean to hurt you, I just want the best for us.' _

"I said I'm fine!" He cut him off, he didn't want to her the end of the statement. He didn't want to deal with the boy. He didn't want to deal with anything at the moment.

"Oh, ok." Justin said. He turned back in his seat facing the front hoping that Marc would take it as a sign that he didn't mean to be a bother to him. He kept his mouth shut tight seeing the sign that said New York was 15 miles away. He sat there in silence as a small tear silently rolled down his cheek.

xXx

"Here's the up to date seating list for our guests. We're ranging from around 62 to a 66 table count. Oh and also we need to move Cameron Diaz from her table, she released a statement yesterday bashing her current boyfriend."

"Who's dressing her?"

"Uh, Calvin Klein."

"Good, move her to Calvin's table. Who is she dating?"

"Alex Rodriguez." The girl said.

"And just take him of the list."

"Or you can lose her and still keep him!" Another voice said.

For the first time that afternoon Wilhelmina looked up from her desk to see the person who had spoken, making their way into her office.

"Excuse me?"

"You can keep Alex and lose Cameron," Justin said coming further in the large room.

She folded her arms on her desk, leaning forward slightly, "And why would I do that?"

"Because, Cameron hasn't been in the public eyes since 2009 and very soon, her boy-toy of now, will be coveted by designers left and right."

Wilhelmina looked from the boy to Gina the events planner and back again as if looking to see is she was hearing the insanity coming from his mouth. "Why would major designers dress a base-ball player? That is what he is right?" She said to Gina as the girl nodded rapidly.

"Because, excuse me," Justin said to the woman next to him, moving past her to stand directly in front of Wilhelmina's desk. "One of the top leading fashion magazines in the world is featuring him, amongst the back drop of Yankee stadium, for their November center spread."

"What!" Gina piped up from behind. "That's ridiculous! What fashion magazine would do something like that? Vogue?" She laughed at the boy.

He merely stood there unshaken staring dead straight into Wilhelmina's eyes, "No, Mode."

Taking a momentary breath of surprise Gina's laugh became even harder looking from Wilhelmina's unreadable face to the back of the young boys head who was standing in front of her.

"What? Ha! Mode? Base-ball! That's—that's"

"That'll be all," Wilhelmina spoke not moving from her position leaned forward on her desk, arms folded, with her hand propping up her chin.

The event's planners laughter died instantly as she looked at the woman in front of her and saw that there was no humor on her face. Without a word she turned and silently made her way out of the office, grabbing her guest list board as she went.

"And since when are we featuring the Yankees in the pages of Mode?"

"Since Tommy Hilfiger, Prabal Gurungand Lacoste all featured pin striping on their fall runways. With this being our New York issue what could be better than featuring designer labels that started in New York along with the men that wear it to work every day!"

Wilhelmina sat back for a moment not say a word, her facial expression not changing. Justin darted his eyes between hers, searching for any hint of her thoughts. Then, a moment later she sat up again.

"That's exactly the kind of pitch I was looking for," She said.

Justin's heart swelled as a bright smile appeared on his face.

"Thanks," He said, writhing with joy from the moment of the approval of Wilhelmina Slater.

She looked him right in the eye locking sights with the boy, "But it took a lot of guts to come in here like that and talk to me in that way," she said at his smiling face. "No one talks to me like that." The boy instantly froze as if it was Christmas and he had found Santa drinking in his living room with a fake beard. "And because you did," she began, "You may have your sportswear spread."

Justin's heart began to rapidly beat again as he exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath the whole time. Wilhelmina let out a small smile at the radiance beaming from the little boys face as the color came back to it. As soon as the blood reached his hands again he began to jump up and down, clapping, instantly reminding her of Marc.

"When you're done, which had better be soon, take these to Tanner or Toby," She said, handing him a small stack of various papers, "I have a previous engagement to attend to and I will be out of the office the rest of the day."

Justin stopped clapping, still beaming, "Sure thing," he said. She nodded turning around, grabbing her flashing phone from where it sat on top of a trifling pile of papers on her desk.

He made his way to the door of her office before stopping abruptly and turning back.

"One last thing," He said to her, "It was Marc's idea."

xXx

With a pair of electric blue heels, Swarovski diamond bracelets, an array of sunglasses, and the lacings to incase a swing skirt in hand Amanda made her way from the closet into the art department of Runway.

Upon seeing her new co-worker Nigel sat busily behind his desk she made her way in, "Ok so I've narrowed it down to these 12 pairs of sun-"

"What is that?"

Amanda followed the line of which the pen in Nigel's hand was pointing to see the items held in her hands, "The remainder of the accessories for our Heidi Klum center piece."

"What are you talking about? We aren't doing a Heidi Klum piece. That would be like overkill and all she'd want to do is hock her new time schedule for Project Runway in which Miranda would murder her."

Amanda stared at him dumbfounded.

"Oy," Nigel said at her appearance, swiftly he took off his glasses and began to clean them with the silk hanky he pulled from his coats breast pocket. "Project Runway? Runway?" He said putting them back on. "They stole the name from us and in return never paid the slightest attention to crediting the name. Miranda about had a fit. Needless to say Heidi was terminated from all Runway contracts. Not that she could ever make it here if it weren't for her being a model. God, no one could ever make a movie, much less a TV game show on the inner workings of this great magazine! They'd fail before they even began," he said with a huff.

Amanda, now more confused by his ramblings shook her head as they reason in why she had come in flooded back to her. "So we're not doing the Heidi piece?"

"No," Nigel said, not bothering to look at her.

"What! I've been working hard for the last two days on this piece to style the winning look for her November cover and now you tell me we're not doing it!"

Nigel looked up, "Honey please. You haven't been working hard at all. If you had been you would have known that Runway would never put Heidi on their cover much less let her be a background model in one of our ads."

"But," Amanda's lip began to tremble slightly. She looked up at him standing in front of her and then down casted her gaze, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. "But I was told we were." She nearly whispered.

"No," Nigel said with no tinge of concern in his voice, "And at the moment we don't even have a center spread, or even a cover model for that matter!" He nearly choked as if remembering why he was sitting there hunched over the files on his desk, "Which is why I need to finish working, uninterrupted."

Amanda looked up at him then down to the items in her hands before dropping her head and turning to leave.

"Oh," Nigel called out to her, "And if you had really been working hard you would have known that."

Amanda turned and walked out the door, rushing back to the dim cubicle of space in which she had inherited as her own on the first day. Throwing the clothes in her hands down and sinking to the floor she held her head in her hands as tears rolled down her cheeks, silently cursing herself for trusting the red headed girl who had appeared so friendly to her those two days ago when telling her that they were hosting Heidi Klum for their cover.

xXx

Sitting behind his newly acclaimed desk Marc finally ended up shutting the computer screen down that he had been staring at for the past three hours. It was hope less. He had been scanning through site after site on new openings in New York, new art museums, new hot restaurants. That was the problem with his new position. He wasn't entirely the creative director of Mode, though they didn't have anyone filling the spot at the moment, and yet he also wasn't entirely not a features editor anymore. He did more or less of both. Which was not only exhausting but excruciating. For the past few days, on top of finding the perfect place to shoot their November center spread, he had been trying to hopelessly also clean and file the ad placement for the upcoming issue. It had been a mess. He had wasted the past few days on finding the perfect spot and was now going to be behind on his other responsibilities if he couldn't find one, pitch it, and start getting it in the works. Folding his arms on his desk he threw his head into them nearly coming in contact with the desk below.

"I see you're working hard."

Instantly his head shot back up, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry, Willie, for my center spread, not being able to-"

"What do you mean for your center spread? I told fashion elf it was a go. Or do you think you have a better idea because your idea to drop Cameron Diaz and keep Rodriguez was very clever and makes perfect advertising since for the magazine."

Marcs jaw dropped slightly, "Wait, Rodriguez as in the insanely hot baseball player?"

Wilhelmina looked at him with a look of almost utter confusion, "Yes. Justin came in and pitched it to me this morning. I must say I was rather shocked that you had him do it instead of yourself. But he was kind and made sure to tell me that it was your idea… Why do you look more confused than me?"

In a flash Justin's ramblings from earlier on the drive back seemed to float through his mind. "I'm not! I just didn't know he had pitched them to you already!"

"Right," Wilhelmina said with an eyebrow quirked. She let out a breath checking the phone in her hands, "Well good, get to it. I'm going to be out the rest of the day and by tomorrow I want progress. Good work Marc."

xXx

Turning on her heel she made her way through the rest of the tube to the elevators beyond.

Her phone buzzed just as the doors closed behind her. She checked the message seeing that it was from Ray.

_**Ray:**__ Are you coming?_

It had been the same thing every day. She would walk into the offices to check that all work was being done in her absences before ending up leaving before the day was over. It had been like that for the past 5 months after he had come to her. And now she found her time in the office was scarcely noticeable compared to how much time she was spending out of it. Enjoying her time away on countless dates and midafternoon rendezvous with Ray. She had recently found herself to be enjoying it just about as much as she had 18 years prior. When he would pick her up and take her away, making her forget about work and all of the stresses of working under Fey Sommers by getting under him. Well at that time she had been mostly under him but now in her new self she was typically on top. That was until she had woken up one morning 18 years previous, to find he wasn't there. No note, no explanation. But she hadn't needed one. The reason was apparent. It was as apparent than as it was now but he had promised her he'd changed and was sincere. In return he had sealed the promise another promise. A lot like the unspoken promise that she had made between herself and Daniel. That he wouldn't leave, that they could begin to work together. But that was before he had indeed left. _Going off to some foreign land just to bang some other women_, she thought. She looked down at her phone beginning to type back.

_**Wilhelmina:**__ In a minute._

xXx

The next day Betty made her way from her office to lunch room to find Andy, Clara, Eddie, and Jess already seated at their editors table.

"Afternoon!"

"Betty," Eddie began gesturing to her outfit, "All I have to say is, why?"

She looked down past the tray she was carrying to the striped skirt she was wearing over her green tights.

"What? It's cold outside and stripes are in."

Eddie looked at her again without saying anything before scooting over to let her in.

"So," She said, taking a seat between Andy and Clara, unwrapping her sandwich as she went, "how did the date go last night?"

Without responding Clara flicked a leaf of her green salad to the other side of her plate.

"Daniel can be a hard one to get talking sometimes, especially when he's nervous-" Betty cut in at her silence.

"Oh he talked alright. Actually he never stopped talking. All about this Wilhelmina woman!"

A gasp came from the right side of the table, "NO way!" Eddie breathed.

"Wait, Wilhelmina?"

"Yes," Clara said with her British accent, "He went on and on about her and when I brought him to my place at the end of the night-"

Betty grimaced not really caring for the details of what might have happened between her former boss and her co-worker. Eddie on the other hand along with Jess leaned forward urging Clara to continue.

"He kept on talking about her! It didn't matter what I did, he would bring her up again."

"No!" Eddie and Jess cooed.

"Wilhelmina?" Betty asked unbelieving, "But he hates her."

"Obviously you have the wrong Wilhelmina or he's met a new one cause he quite clearly didn't hate this one." She said to her, "I mean even after we were in my apartment and-"

"Did you do the move I showed you? It gets 'em every time!" Eddie asked wriggling his eyebrows.

Jess gasped, "You didn't show me any moves!"

"Hush hun, she's speaking!"

"No," Clara spoke, "I didn't have the chance to because he talked himself right out of my apartment!"

"Oh my gosh! Betty you set Clara up with a talker?" Eddie said, directly pointed at her.

Betty for the most part was to entirely confused to comprehend what he was saying. _Since when did Daniel talk about Wilhelmina in a non-demeaning way? And why would he have brought her up when on a date with someone else? _Especially with Clara, who, in Bettys personal opinion, could get in to any mans bed with a single word and pop of her perfectly groomed eyebrows. Then it hit her. The reason in why he didn't want to go back. Why he insisted on not taking her invitation to the Costume Ball. _He was afraid of Wilhelmina. Without her being there, Daniel had no one on his team to fight for him and so Wilhelmina had ran him out. Therefore, he had flown to London. To get away from her and was looking for _comfort_ in an old friend._ All of the pieces suddenly fit together. Betty jumped up to her feet nearly taking out a few scarcely stacked salad plates in her way.

"I need to speak with Daniel!"


End file.
